


I Think I'll Miss This One This Year

by AccidentalAvenger



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Courfeyrac is desperate, Established Relationship, M/M, They're both complete Scrooges, a lot about Rent, rent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras don't celebrate Christmas. At least now they're dating they can not celebrate Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I'll Miss This One This Year

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a headcanon by orestesblasting-pyladesfunk so credit for the idea goes to them.
> 
> Most of it was written at about 3:00am so sorry if it's a bit garbled in places but I left it to the last minute as usual so there isn't time for it to be beta-ed. 
> 
> Anyway, Happy Holidays!!

Grantaire didn't celebrate Christmas.

He didn't see the point, to be honest. 

His family had never been religious (until it came to his sexuality, of course) and they had never had the money to buy gifts or decorations. As a child Grantaire had been surrounded by a world full of light and colour at Christmas, until he had to return home to their tiny grey house, devoid of warmth and love.

He had learnt very young never to ask for anything, never to mention Santa Claus or Christmas trees in front of his mother who would cry and then yell at him until Grantaire joined in her sobbing. He had learnt that the adverts proclaiming that Christmas was a time for sharing and kindness was a lie; the kids at his school never stopped in their tormenting and his house was just dark and unfriendly as always.

The only thing that increased round Christmas was Grantaire's father's drinking and that meant an increase in the number of bruises that covered his mother's, and later his own, skin. Blotches of purple and blue were the only Christmas colours that Grantaire knew. 

There was no festivity, no joy to the world. The Christmas songs that blared wherever he went were full of lies and the smiling families in Christmas adverts were a million miles away from his own where barely a day went by without a violent fight and a flood of tears. Christmas brought nothing to his home but stress when the heating was cut off. 

Grantaire didn't celebrate Christmas.

It was alright. He had plenty of other things to celebrate. Days which were much more important than an over-capitalised religious ceremony stolen from pagans which gave companies the opportunity to use the ideas of love and friendship to exploit naive shop goers.

He could celebrate March 21, 2008; the day he had finally walked out of his parents house at only 15, covered with bruises and scars but holding his head high.   
Or June 17; the day he had met the Thenardier siblings. He had been on the streets for just over two months and was barely scraping by. Eponine had found him half starved and sleeping rough and taken pity on him. She and her street-wise brothers and sisters had adopted him into their makeshift family and probably saved his life.  
Maybe November 4; the day he had met Jehan, the rich boy with a heart of gold running away from his parents. Jehan had been found and dragged home a couple of days later which was probably for his own good but he hadn't forgotten about Grantaire and the support he had provided over the years was invaluable.   
December 2 2010; the day he met Les Amis, dragged to a meeting by Jehan and had accidentally discovered his best friends.   
February 25 2012; the day he had got clean once and for all after several failed attempts. 

There were a thousand more moments; each of his friends birthdays, a thousand parties and a hundred paintings sold. Most recently of course was January 5, the day he and Enjolras had finally got together after months of tension. That was the best thing that had happened to Grantaire all year and that was something he would celebrate every time Enjolras kissed him. 

It was a million times better than some capitalist holiday. 

Courfeyrac had looked like he was about to throw a fit when Grantaire had once again turned down an invite to his annual Christmas party. 

"You can't not celebrate Christmas!" he had exclaimed in horror and Grantaire had shrugged. They had this argument every year and Courfeyrac always gave up eventually though he often got a faux-bitter message on his phone late at night with various drunk friends attempting to convince him to join them. 

To be completely honest, Grantaire was happiest spending Christmas alone. He loved how abandoned the city was at Christmas - everyone spending the day with their family, safe and warm at home. All the shops were closed and anyone who he saw always smiled at him, a sharp contrast to the usual unfriendly stares of commuters and shoppers. There was always a happier look to people at Christmas. Grantaire just felt it was a shame that the feeling was exploited by companies for excessive profit. 

"You can't just not celebrate Christmas," Courfeyrac whined, bring up the argument for the fifteenth time that day.   
"Just watch me," muttered Grantaire, finishing off his coffee with a smirk.   
"Christmas is about spending time with your loved ones," Courfeyrac argued and Jehan gave a pointed nod beside him.   
"So I'll spend it with my loved one," Grantaire replied and Courfeyrac groaned.   
"How on earth did the two most scroogiest people on this planet manage to find each other," Courfeyrac bemoaned, "I swear you two are both the Grinch in real life. It's like the only thing you really agree on. Why?"  
"It could be, perhaps, that their shoes are too tight. It could be their heads aren't screwed on just right," Jehan recited with a   
straight face, "But I think that the most likely reason of all may that their hearts are two sizes too small."  
"Exactly," said Courfeyrac triumphantly, "Your hearts are too small!"

"Incidentally How the Grinch Stole Christmas is Enjolras' all time favourite Christmas story," Jehan informed Grantaire with a knowing look. He shrugged and smirked.   
"I know. He likes that the Grinch tries to destroy capitalism. He hates the ending."  
"Of course he hates the ending," grumbled Courfeyrac, "The part where the Grinch learns the meaning of Christmas spirit is the best bit!"  
"At least he has a favourite Christmas story," Jehan pointed out, "R's just cynical about anything to do with Christmas."  
"I have a favourite Christmas story!" Grantaire protested. Courfeyrac's face lit up.   
"Seriously? What is it?"  
"Rent."

The excited expression soured.   
"Rent isn't a Christmas story, R," he said firmly.   
"Yes it is. It's set at Christmas. Partially anyway."  
"It isn't about love and friendship and the Christmas spirit though, is it?"  
"It kind of is," Jehan murmered and Courfeyrac glared at them.   
"Jehan! You're supposed to support me on this one. Tell R that he can't just sit alone at home all day watching Rent."

"I'm not going to be sitting home alone. I'll be with Enjolras, remember?" Grantaire said smoothly, "We can't possibly come to your Christmas party as we'll spend the whole day having mind-blowing sex."

He only had a few second to appreciate the horrified look on Courfeyrac's before Enjolras appeared seemingly out of nowhere carrying two cups of coffee. He sat in the chair beside Grantaire and raised an eyebrow as he slid one of the cups over to Grantaire.

"Who's going to be having mind-blowing sex?" he asked with a pout.  
"Woah, you just summoned him by mentioning sex," whispered Jehan in awe. Courfeyrac snorted and Grantaire pointedly ignored them.   
"Us," he informed Enjolras, "All of Christmas Day."  
"Oh yeah," said Enjolras with a dead-pan expression, quickly catching on, "Sorry Courf. We can't to make it to your party because we won't be able to walk after all the intense sex we'll have had."  
"Intense and incredibly kinky sex we'll have just had," Grantaire added with a serious expression, "There's gonna be handcuffs and rope and whips and everything. It's going to be insane."   
Courfeyrac groaned. "Oh God, spare me the details." A wicked look suddenly came across his face and he grinned evilly. "So whose bed will all this sex be in, seeing as you still haven't moved in together?" 

Grantaire glanced towards Enjolras involuntarily. His stomach sank when he saw that the blond was glaring at Courfeyrac angrily. Grantaire had begun to think about moving into together after Combeferre had moved out of his and Enjolras' shared flat a couple of months ago to live with Courfeyrac, after Marius had brought a house with Cosette. Enjolras' flat was huge and light and wonderful while Grantaire's was cramped and all his neighbours were prostitutes and drug dealers. Relatively polite prostitutes and drug dealers, but prostitutes and drug dealers nonetheless. They had only been together for a bit less than a year but Grantaire spent most of the time there anyway, so much so that he had a whole section of the wardrobe rather than just a drawer. But Enjolras hadn't asked him and had given no indication of planning to do so despite teasing and hints from their friends. 

To hide his disappointment Grantaire took a quick sip of the coffee Enjolras had delivered and made an almost orgasmic noise.   
"Holy shit this is amazing," he told Enjolras who looked slightly flustered, "I love you."  
He leaned across and kissed Enjolras on the cheek and glanced down at Enjolras' mug, only to make a face. 

"Is that a gingerbread latte?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. Enjolras cocked his head defiantly.   
"Yes it is," he replied, "Is there a problem with that?"  
"Uh, yes. It's gross," Grantaire said, ignoring the insulted gasp from Jehan.   
"Coffee snob," shot back Enjolras.   
"Hey, you can't enjoy something truly if you're changing a fundamental part of it!"  
"Yes you can!" Enjolras argued, "Coffee is a wonderful source of caffeine but it's also too bitter and strong."   
"Just like me," Grantaire pointed out with a smirk, "And you still love me."  
"Yes, but you like your coffee large, black and, if possible, Irish. If what you look for in a relationship is indicated by your taste in coffee then we need to have a serious talk," Enjolras commented, passing Grantaire the biscuit that rested on his saucer.   
"Fair point," Grantaire said through a mouthful of gingerbread. 

"You know what? You both need Christmas," Courfeyrac cut in quickly.   
"Why would our relationship need a corrupted religious holiday which gives companies the chance to exploit familial love and joy for profit?" Enjolras asked seriously and Grantaire hummed in agreement. Courfeyrac moaned and put his head in his hands while Jehan patted his back and made soothing noises. 

\-----------

On Christmas Day Grantaire woke up wrapped around Enjolras, his face buried in the golden curls. He stayed there for a moment, smiling slightly before attempting to remove his arm from underneath Enjolras' chest. Enjolras gave a sleepy grumble and shifted just enough to for Grantaire to pull his arm free. He shook it, trying to regain some of the feeling and felt the familiar tingle of pins-and-needles to come. Suppressing an annoyed groan he reached over to turn the bedside light on. 

The sudden bright light made Enjolras moan and turn over. Grantaire gave a slight laugh and poked his boyfriend gently.   
"Hey, Enj! Wake up! It's Christmas!" he whispered with a mocking tone and Enjolras made a disgruntled noise that sounded a lot like 'fuck off.'  
"Aw don't be like that," Grantaire murmured, leaning over his boyfriend who was stretched out across the bed, face in pillow. "At least you don't have to go Courfeyrac's party tonight."   
"Thank God for small blessings," Enjolras muttered, finally able to say something actually coherent. 

"And, you get to spend the whole day with me," Grantaire continued as Enjolras rolled over to look up at him. There was a pillow crease line on his face and his hair could only be described as dramatic but he stil looked gorgeous to Grantaire. "Hm, I might get bored," Enjolras teased, stretching languidly and yawning.   
"I'm sure I can entertain you somehow," Grantaire replied, running a finger along Enjolras' chest gently.   
"Oh yeah? I seem to remember you promising Courf that we were going to have a lot of mindblowing sex today," Enjolras said in a low voice, looking up at Grantaire with a smirk.   
"That can be arranged," Grantaire said, leaning down to kiss Enjolras, not even worrying about morning breath. 

Suffice to say, they did not leave the bed for another few hours. 

\-------

They showered together, Enjolras wrapping his arms around Grantaire's waist and refusing to let go until they were both in the warmth of the shower. Grantaire rolled his eyes but hid the smile. 

They argues the merits of modern art over breakfast; toast and coffee as always. Enjolras claimed that art was supposed to reflect society and the artist's views so 'modern art' was necessary as a statement. Grantaire argued that art was frivolous; it's only purpose to be pretty or effect you emotionally so the whole idea of modern art was useless as it did neither. It was a normal breakfast. 

They got on with work for a few hours; Grantaire sketching as Enjolras furiously tried to plan a fundraiser, annoyed at the lack of response.   
"It's Christmas, Batman," Grantaire teased, "Justice may never rest but your bosses sure as hell can."   
Eventually he was forced to separate Enjolras from his laptop before the blond either threw it across the room or stormed out to interrupt Lemarque's Christmas celebrations. 

"Sometimes I think you love that thing more than me," he muttered as Enjolras pouted at him angrily. "Come on. We're going for a walk." 

So they bundled up in coats and scarf (well, Enjolras did. Grantaire, the human space heater put on an extra jacket and gloves) and they went. The streets of the city were mainly empty, apart from the occasional dog walker out for fresh air. Everyone they passed nodded and smiled at them, which was nice but also wished them a merry Christmas which was met with a subtle roll of the eyes from Enjolras. Grantaire let it slide, happy to be able to hold his boyfriend's hand in public without receiving glares or disapproving looks. Grantaire knew for a fact that homophobia didn't take a holiday break but for at least one day it was nice to pretend. They usually held hands when walking; Enjolras would never let people's bigotry stop him doing anything and Grantaire enjoyed the defiant, proud half-smile he gave the glares, as if to say "Yeah, this is my boyfriend. Got a problem?"   
Still, it felt strangely freeing to not have to put up with strangers disapproval and comforting to know that Enjolras held his hand anyway, not just to annoy homophobes. 

Eventually the cold air got too much and the pair returned to Enjolras' apartment, a little flushed from the cold. 

Lunch together - Grantaire cooking as always as Enjolras couldn't even cook baked beans properly. 

Pointed ignoring of the frequent texts from Courfeyrac, imploring them to come to the Christmas party and then accusing them of being heartless killjoys. 

Grantaire trying to wash up (why did he do chores when he didn't live there? Technically he was still a guest. Also, he cooked the meal) while trying to stop Enjolras stealing his computer back to work. 

After several difficult manoeuvres including hot soapy water going worringly near the computer and Grantaire in bright yellow rubber gloves insisting that Enjolras leave the fundraiser till he was back at the office and not on the verge of ruining Lemarque's Christmas dinner with his family, Grantaire managed to convince Enjolras to watch a movie with him. 

"Isn't Rent a Christmas movie?" Enjolras asked doubtfully, "You told Courf it was your favourite Christmas movie."  
"It's not a Christmas movie," Grantaire promised and then stopped, "Well, sort of. It's set partially at Christmas but you'll like it. There's a protest and a lot about anarchy and sticking it to the man. Your sort of stuff."  
"What about you?" Enjolras asked, looking resigned.   
"There are starving, tortured artists who set fire to things. That's good enough for me," Grantaire joked, flopping onto the sofa and pulling Enjolras down on top of him. 

Enjolras did like the film. He laughed at the right moments and made approving noises when Collins began talking about over-charging the rich which made Grantaire laugh quietly. Enjolras also made a very distressed whimper as Angel slowly got sicker but Grantaire let it slide. He was barely holding back tears himself and just slid his arms around Enjolras' waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. Enjolras leaned into his touch but kept watching the film, his face intently focused. 

Finally the film ended and Enjolras stretched, reminding Grantaire of a cat in the sun although it was already dark outside, curtains drawn.   
"That was sad," he said, "But really good. Why Angel?"  
"Because life is cruel and unfair," Grantaire stated and Enjolras snorted. "I have the soundtrack so you can get that on your phone if you want. There are more songs on the album than in the film cause it's from the stage show."  
"That would be good," Enjolras hummed, sounding slightly bleary and the went strangely silent, watching the credits roll. 

"I have a confession to make," he said finally, sounding a little tense.   
"Yeah?" Grantaire asked, his arm wrapped around Enjolras and his face buried in the other man's hair. He felt a spike of worry and could feel how stiff Enjolras was.   
"Yes," Enjolras replied, pulling away and spinning round to look at Grantaire who pouted in annoyance at the loss of Enjolras' body heat. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hand and entwined their fingers.   
"So what is it?" Grantaire said with a smile, pushing himself upright. It was a difficult task with Enjolras still perched on his legs but he managed to sit up most of the way.  
"I may have sort of got you a Christmas present," Enjolras told him, with a very serious expression. 

Grantaire frowned, suddenly feeling inexplicably guilty.   
"But I thought that you didn't like the whole capitalist scheme of present giving as it exploits platonic and romantic relationships? I don't know if I agree with that but I can't accept it- I don't have anything to give you."  
"I don't like it, but this isn't like this," Enjolras insisted, "I wanted to ask - I was going to give you this anyway, today just seemed like the best idea. Well it was 'Ferre's idea so it seemed like the best. I don't want anything - well, I want you to accept it but you don't have to. I don't want to pressure you into accepting it."   
"Enj, just tell me what it is," Grantaire said quickly. 

Enjolras sighed and reached into his pocket. He looked nervous pulled out a simple, silver key and handed it to Grantaire who's stomach was doing somersaults as he realised the implications.  
"I already know where you keep you spare key," he began, not wanting to get his hopes up if he was wrong.  
"This isn't a spare key," Enjolras said firmly, "This is your key. If you want it." He took a deep breath and then finally asked, "R, will you move in with me?"  
"Yes," Grantaire replied without hesitation, feeling a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.   
"I mean I know that we haven't been dating for a massive amount of time and this is a huge step but I think that we've proved everyone who thought we were going to fall apart wrong and I love you and I would much rather you be here than in your apartment which looks like it's going to fall apart-"   
Grantaire surged up and kissed Enjolras, cutting off his rambling. As he drew back he smiled fondly at his boyfriend.  
"I already said yes," he told Enjolras who gave a relieved sigh.  
"Oh," said Enjolras, slightly dazed but then he smiled. "Good. I'm going to kiss you again now," he told Grantaire who laughed but complied without complaint. 

"You're really soppy," Grantaire said, drawing away.   
"Yep," Enjolras agreed contentedly, laying his head against Grantaire's chest and entwining their fingers. They lay there quietly for a while before Enjolras frowned and quietly said, "This is Christmas, isn't it? This is what everyone goes on about."  
"What do you mean?" Grantaire asked doubtfully.  
"I mean, this is what Christmas is supposedly about: spending time with your loved ones. It's not too bad."  
"If you start putting up a Christmas tree, I'm moving out," Grantaire joked but then smiled. "I love you too. God, we must have been infected by the Christmas spirit Courf is always going on about."   
Enjolras shuddered. "Ugh. Don't let him know that we're ready to admit Christmas is alright."  
"Don't worry. I don't think I'm quite ready for the infamous Christmas party yet."   
"Not a chance," Enjolras said with a laugh then went quiet, "I love you, you know?"  
"I love you too," Grantaire replied, trying to ignore the burst of warmth the words create, "So, are you already trying to think up a new campaign to rescue Christmas cheer from the shackles of consumerism?" 

"Maybe. It could be possible," Enjolras hummed, obviously thinking about it.  
"You're being delusional. Christmas is too far gone to be separated from presents and buying things."  
"No - the idea of present giving is a reflection of caring about your loved ones. Like birthdays."  
"As if they're not exploited by capitalism as well," Grantaire scoffed. Enjolras ignored him and kept talking, using the hand that Grantaire wasn't holding to gesticulate.  
"I mean, you could try to separate the whole decoration and needless spending and consuming from the spirit of Christmas. It would be better for the environment as well. Encourage celebrating a simpler Christmas."   
"The main traditions come from pagan festivals which were hugely decedant and wasteful. Santa Claus is from a coca-cola advert," Grantaire pointed out in deadpan, "Even the nativity has people giving a baby hugely expensive and sort of useless gifts. The wise men give a newborn perfume, Enj. Seriosly expensive and rare perfume. To a newborn." 

Enjolras made a disgusted noise. "Okay maybe you're right. Christmas may be too far gone."   
"You might as well try to separate Halloween from consumerism," Grantaire affirmed.   
"Fine. Maybe New Years or something then," Enjolras said grumpily and Grantaire smiled fondly.   
"Reinventing a whole holiday might be a bit of a big task, babe," he pointed out.  
"Companies have done it before so why can't I? I'm going to try," Enjolras insisted.   
"Sure," Grantaire shrugged, "You can throw a New Years Party where we all plant trees or something."  
"We can throw party. It's our flat now," Enjolras said firmly, kissing the back of Grantaire's hand. He then frowned. "Actually that's a pretty good idea. Where can you plant trees in the middle of the city?"


End file.
